


Paternal Instinct

by ttfan111robstar1



Series: Baby Bird [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Baby Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne is awesome, Bruce is a good parent, DaddyBats, Gen, Hospitals, Protective Bruce Wayne, Sick Dick Grayson, Sickfic, baby!Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttfan111robstar1/pseuds/ttfan111robstar1
Summary: Dick gets De-Aged. Bruce thinks he's prepared for this. Then Dick gets sick and he realizes he's definitely not as prepared as he thought.Guest appearances by the JLA and Leslie Thompkins.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Baby Bird [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656484
Comments: 3
Kudos: 209





	Paternal Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> This story took forever to do. Not just because it was as long as it is but because there was so much emotion to unpack that it was really difficult to lay out. Overall, I'm proud of this. It was a solid piece of work and I enjoyed it. 
> 
> "The Day Before You Came" is an original and may not be used without my express written consent.
> 
> Enjoy!

Batman had been getting ready to start his patrol when the communicator began beeping. He didn’t have to look to know what it meant. Nightwing was in trouble. He hurriedly dressed in his costume and leapt into the batmobile, triangulating where the distress signal had come from to find it was coming from a small warehouse at the edge of Gotham. Gotham’s criminal underworld could wait for a little while to receive their justice at the hand of Batman. His son needed him.

Putting the car into it’s highest speed, he made a beeline for the edge of Gotham.

He skidded the Batmobile to a stop close to the warehouse and used his grappling hook to get onto the warehouse roof. Using the lens inside of his cowl, he looked for heat signatures in the warehouse. There was only one. Good. Dick was alone. He went through the roof and landed soundlessly on the warehouse floor. He looked around. There was a ray there, clearly new. But where…?

A sound caught his ear, and he whirled around to see Nightwing’s costume and belt on the floor, the communicator still lit up and beeping. Something was squirming beneath it. Carefully, Batman made his way over, and very cautiously removed the suit.  
  
What he found was a pale-skinned baby with a shock of dark hair, looking up at him with wide baby blue eyes.

Beneath the cowl, his eyes widened imperceptibly as he picked up the small child on instinct. Those blue eyes never strayed from him. The baby did not whimper or whine as some might have in fear. The child did not seem to be afraid at all, but rather comforted by the strong arms cradling him.

There was only one child on earth who would not be afraid of him.  
  
“Dick?” He asked softly, as if the child could give him an answer.

To his surprise, or perhaps not, the child reached up a pudgy hand and patted his cheek. 

“Dada.” Came the soft coo.

Any doubt he had was erased in that instant. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Dick. His mind was spinning with how this might have happened, but it was quickly overshadowed by something else.

As Batman looked into the eyes of his son, he felt something stir in him. It was a new kind of heat that flooded him, a glowing that burned brighter than the sun. It flooded his body, overwhelmed his senses, as the warmth coursed through him. Everything that made him who he was- The death of his parents, his company and image, the costume he now wore, his loyalties to Alfred and the JLA- suddenly came undone in one moment. Suddenly, the thing tethering him to life was the small infant in his arms. A small part of his brain noted that this must have been the feeling first-time fathers had when they looked at their newborns, and that he was just experiencing it for the first time himself. Certainly he’d been a father for well over a decade, but never to a baby. The incredible amount of love and still yet the greater amount of protectiveness that burst open inside of him was too big to describe. He felt like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.

Then, when the oxytocin rush in his brain had died down enough to let him think clearly again, he realized that action was needed and fast. He whipped out his own communicator, and Alfred’s face filled the screen.  
  
“Sir?"  
  
“It’s about Dick.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“I need you to get a crib, diapers, bottles, formula, baby food, pacifiers, clothes, and some toys. And get Leslie down to the cave as soon as possible. Dick’s been de-aged. I’m going to call Superman to have him take the ray I found here and figure out how to reverse the effects.” He said.

Alfred, to his credit, did not react beyond blinking twice. “Understood, Master. I’ll contact Dr. Thompkins immediately and procure the items you have requested, though they may take some time to acquire due to the late hour.”  
  
“You have until I get back home. An hour or less.” Came the clipped response.

“Yes, Master.”  
  
Batman turned his communicator to contact the JLA, and mercifully Superman picked up.

“Batman?”  
  
“Superman, I need you at my coordinates immediately. It’s the highest level priority.” He said, seriously.  
  
“Understood. I’m on my way.” Superman said, before hanging up. Bruce’s belt began to glow faintly, a signal of his location being transmitted and therefore tracked.

In a matter of moments, Superman was there, in all his boy scout glory. Upon first glance, he saw no threat, and then turned to Batman, about to ask what was so important when he saw the infant in the Dark Knight’s arms.

The sight was so jarring that it short-circuited his brain momentarily as he tried to process what he saw. It was _definitely_ a baby in Batman’s arms. Yet the child seemed completely unfazed by the masked superhero holding him, cooing contentedly and seeming happy. When he looked away briefly, in the midst of wondering what was happening, he caught sight of Nightwing’s costume on the ground and put two and two together.  
  
“Is that…?” He couldn’t make himself say it.

Batman nodded. “It is.”  
  
“How…?”  
  
“I’m assuming it has to do with the ray over there.” He pointed to it. “That’s why I called you here. Can you take it back to The Watchtower and figure out a way to reverse the effects?”  
  
“I… Yeah, I mean, I can try, but it will probably take me a few days at least. You’re the technological expert here.”  
  
“I’m aware.” The remark was not scathing, but a bit self-righteous. “But I have my hands full at the moment.” He said, looking down at his now-infant son. The baby seemed close to sleep now, dozing in his adoptive father’s arms.

“I understand. I’ll do what I can.” He promised, going over to the ray.

“Clark.”  
  
Superman turned, surprised at the use of his real name. “Yes?”  
  
“This is first priority for everybody, not just because of Dick but because we have no idea how many rays like this might be out there. We’re going to need everyone’s help. And I’m going to need somebody to take over here while I deal with this.” He said.

“I’ll get somebody on it as soon as I get back.” He promised. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”  
  
Batman nodded his assent, before a quieter sound caught his attention.

“Batman?”  
  
The Dark Knight turned to see Superman looking at him, then at the infant version of his son. “If you need anything, anything at all, don’t be afraid to ask any of us for help. I know it’s not your favorite thing, but… Don’t let your pride get in the way on this one. You need to take care of yourself as much as you need to take care of him, and sometimes that means taking a break. He needs you at your best.” It was a soft reply.

Batman regarded him for a moment, any emotions he may have had hidden behind his mask, before he turned away. He gathered up Dick’s costume and belt, and wrapped the costume around him like a blanket, before he was off into the night, only stopping to grab a cloth that he’d seen on the floor. It seemed clean enough for the moment. It would have to do as a makeshift diaper until he got home tonight. He wrapped it around Dick as best he could, and tied the corners to make it hold. Dick’s eyes fluttered open at the sensation, but seeing that he was only being changed, drifted back to sleep. With that, he took Dick back to the Batmobile and put it on auto drive, holding Dick the entire way home.

As the Batmobile went through the twists and turns to get them home, Bruce found himself weighed down heavily by the gravity of the responsibility he now had. In those initial moments of holding his son, he’d felt the enormous love and protectiveness that was apart of fatherhood with a baby, but now that the moment had passed, there was time for the fear to sink in.

Dick now depended on him for _everything_. It was he who had to be able to anticipate and interpret his every need, since Dick couldn’t tell him otherwise. One mistake could potentially have life-threatening consequences for the child, considering that in this state he was so vulnerable to everything. Dick needed him to be there now more than he ever had, and he needed him as Bruce Wayne and not Batman. That was acutely uncomfortable for him. The costumed crime fighter could take down anything or anyone in his way, but Bruce Wayne was just a man. Though he was not an _ordinary_ man, being wealthy and having himself in the public eye, he was still painfully human, with weaknesses and fears and doubts. Being Batman had always taken him away from that realization. With his weapons, costume, and cowl, he had been able to harbor the illusion that he could take on anything and anyone, and all that would come of it would be scrapes, bruises, and occasional wounds. But now, the canopy of that illusion had been torn, and there was no fixing it.

Whatever happened now, he had to accept that he would have to deal with it as a father and not a crime fighter. He could not run back to his cape and cowl for a sense of security now. He had to fight for Dick away from his persona, and that was more terrifying than any villain he had ever faced. But for Dick, he would do it. He would wear his uncomfortable suit and tie sets and go to work and get home and go to bed like a normal human being because that was what Dick needed.

That was what Dick deserved.

Never once had he ever had any regrets about becoming Batman. It had been the right thing for him, and had led him to many great things, including the baby in his arms right now. But now, there was some regret, a welling up of guilt, because being Batman had not only put his son in this situation, but was also taking his focus away from the child because of his worry over those duties and responsibilities. There hadn’t been any question about whether he would have to give up the cowl until this was resolved, but the fact that his mind wondered about who would take his place and if they would be able to handle his criminals and what would happen if he didn’t keep himself in shape was making him feel as awful as possible. Nothing else should have mattered as much as his child, and yet here he was, worrying about something else when he should have been thinking about Dick’s welfare.

He pushed the guilt aside as he tried to think of his next steps. Leslie would be coming soon to look Dick over, and that was good. He could at least know how old he was, the steps he needed to take, if he was physically healthy, and the milestones that might be met during this time. Alfred would have the supplies he requested, undoubtedly, so he needn’t worry about that. But there were a few things he had to worry about now. He obviously couldn’t be seen out in public with Dick in this state. That would mean going to work was out of the question. He’d have to work from home for a while, at least. He’d have to call Lucius and explain that he’d been sick and Alfred had quarantined him for a while. It was the most believable excuse for not going out. He was certain Clark would inform the JLA of the recent developments, and thought perhaps some of them might come to see him in their civilian identities. He’d have to send notice to them to use the batcave if they wanted to come. Though he hated having them in his house, their concern for Dick would be genuine, and he knew Dick loved them all. He wouldn’t deny his son a chance to see them if it made him happy. Besides… Much as he hated to admit it, Clark might have had a point. If he ever needed a break, he would have to depend on either Alfred or one of them to let him have it.

The Batmobile pulled into the cave at last. He breathed a sigh of relief to be home again, and got out of the car, cradling the small baby in his arms. Alfred was awaiting him with diapering supplies and a pair of red footed pajamas. Bruce had no idea how he got the items so quickly, and he was fairly certain he didn’t want to know. Despite the circumstances, Alfred did not appear to be troubled. He seemed stoic as ever in the face of such an odd predicament and Bruce couldn’t help but admire the amount of emotional restraint the man held. He could have used a bit more of that himself at times.

Wordlessly, he pulled back his cowl and began to change Dick. It wasn’t something he’d personally done himself before, but he’d seen it happen enough times in hospitals and homes to be able to remember it and replicate it perfectly. Dick didn’t fuss or squirm, which was nice, but he couldn’t help the small twinge of worry at how despondent he seemed to be, even if he was tired. Didn’t babies usually cry when they were woken up unexpectedly? Not Dick, apparently. He didn’t even make a peep. Some small part of Bruce’s brain wondered if Dick had enough memory of what had happened to realize what was going on, and maybe that’s why he didn’t cry. Nonetheless, he diapered and dressed his son, before picking him up in his arms again.

He sat down in the chair near the bat computer, sighing. Dick’s eyes had fluttered closed again the second he’d finished dressing him and picked him up again.

“The young master seems to be taking this quite well.” Alfred observed.

Bruce nodded, suddenly exhausted.

“I cannot say the same for yourself, however, Master Bruce. You seem troubled.” The butler said.

Bruce looked up at Alfred, who looked at him with knowing eyes. It was times like these that Bruce felt he was made up of cellophane, because Alfred could see right through him. He sighed, knowing the butler wouldn’t let this go.

“I’ve never done this before, Alfred. He’s depending on me for everything now, and if I let him down in any way… I could really hurt him. I don’t know what the ray might have affected, if something I do could make it worse. I’m not… I don’t know how to deal with that without the costume.”

Alfred looked at him for a moment. Then, he spoke. “Do you mean to say that you do not know how to change your priorities from being The Batman to being a father because you have never had to separate them?”

“Yes, but no. That’s a piece of it, but… Nobody has ever depended on _just me_ , Alfred. Nobody close to me, at least. I don’t know if I know how to deal with it without the cowl.”

“Master Bruce, if I may, the cowl is merely a piece of cloth. It hides your identity, but it does not mean that when it comes off it stops you from being The Batman. You speak as though you and The Batman are two separate people, but they are both you, Master Bruce. Just because you do not wear the costume does not mean you are not still Batman. The same bravery and protection that lives in The Batman lives within you. Cowl or not, that will not change.” He said.

The words were soothing, and the served to strengthen him. “Thank you, Alfred.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Sir. I believe we should be heading upstairs. Doctor Thompkins should be arriving soon.”  
  
Bruce nodded. “Alright. I’ll go change. Can you…?”  
  
“Certainly, sir.” He said, holding his arms out for the baby.

It almost felt wrong to Bruce to let go of the child in his arms. As soon as Dick’s comforting warmth no longer touched him, he immediately wanted to snatch him back. Still, he controlled himself long enough to go change into his civilian clothes, before he went back to his son and held him again.

He went up to the house, and felt and odd sense of relief at the fact that it still looked the same. After a day like today where everything had been turned upside down and changed, it was a relief to know that some things hadn’t.

He went to his bedroom, and found a crib and toys set up there for Dick. He wondered why Alfred had set it up there when he realized the answer almost as quickly. Dick had felt alone and somewhat frightened by the large manor his first week there. Alfred had likely anticipated those feelings may crop up again, and had prepared accordingly. Bruce could only be grateful for the Englishman’s foresight as he took a blanket from the crib and swaddled Dick in it. He wanted to keep him warm.

He heard the doorbell ring and walked down the hall, smiling. Dr. Leslie Thompkins stood in his doorway, looking rather cheerful for being called upon at this late hour. He smiled at his godmother.

“Leslie.” He nodded at her in greeting, smiling softly. He might have hugged her were Dick not in his arms.  
  
“Bruce.” Her smile sparkled. “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve been needed here for something that didn’t involve bullet wounds. It’s a nice change.”  
  
“I have to admit I wish you were here to treat me for that rather than what you are here for.” He said.  
  
She nodded, eyes sympathetic. “I understand.” She said, before she looked at the baby in his arms and smiled. “He’s just precious though.” She crooned. “Reminds me a bit of how you looked when you were that size."  
  
Bruce nodded curtly. “Can you check him over, make sure nothing’s physically wrong with him?”  
  
“Of course.” She said. She set down her black bag near the coffee table. “Can you lay him down for me so that I can take his measurements?” She said, getting out a measuring tape.  
  
He was highly reluctant to set Dick down, but did comply, laying him on the soft carpet of the rug. Dick held remarkably still for her. Bruce felt antsy at the waiting, but was reassured when she spoke.  
  
“28.9 inches long. Measurement-wise, that puts him at about ten months old.” She said. “Can you undress him and then step on a scale with him so I can get his weight?”  
  
Bruce nodded. “Sure.” He said, and set to work. “If he’s ten months old, then what can I give him food-wise? And what milestones should I be watching for?”  
  
“At ten months old, he’ll be able to crawl, sit, and stand up for periods of time. He’ll also be good at picking up small objects so I’d make sure there are no choking hazards near the floors. He isn’t walking yet, though. He can eat baby food, and maybe some things with thicker consistencies. As far as sleeping goes, he should have a single one hour nap a day and should be sleeping through the night.”  
  
“What about talking? Is he supposed to know words yet? If he does, does he know what they mean?”  
  
“Most children say their first real words anywhere between ten to fourteen months old, so it’s possible. They can say syllables and string them together at six months, but they don’t understand meaning until ten to fourteen months. Why?”  
  
If Bruce had been any less of a man, he might have blushed. “When I found him, he called me “Dada”. So I wondered.”  
  
Leslie smiled at that. “He’s a smart baby. He knows who you are.”  
  
As Alfred returned with a scale, Bruce finished undressing Dick before slipping off his own shoes.   
  
“Weigh yourself alone first, and then hold him.” Leslie instructed.

He did as she asked. She got out a calculator.

“What was your weight alone?”

“210 pounds.”  
  
“And with Dick?”

“236.5.”  
  
“That means he’s at 26.5 pounds, give or take a few ounces. Home scales aren’t as accurate as baby scales, sadly. But that’s a perfectly healthy weight for a ten month old.” She said. Bruce felt something inside of him loosen at that.

Leslie continued the exam, listening to his heartbeat, but also spoke with him about what else to expect. “Around nine months is when babies start to experience separation anxiety, so you should be prepared for that. He’ll be fine once you’re gone if you ever have to leave. If he wakes up at night and won’t settle down, tell him you’re there, but try not to pick him up, play with him, or feed him. It’s best to avoid sun exposure also, but if you have to, use sunscreen. SPF 30 should do it. Brush his teeth twice a day. Make sure you keep the bathroom doors closed, too, and keep toilet seats down. It increases risk of drowning. And make sure he’s never left unsupervised around water. And he’ll learn best by singing, talking, playing, and reading. No TV yet, though. It’s not recommended at that age.”  
  
Bruce put all of that in a list in his head as Leslie wrote down Dick’s head circumference. “Is there anything else?”  
  
“If he has diarrhea or stool that is hard, dry, or difficult to pass then call me. And if you have any questions or concerns, of course. For the moment, however, he looks perfectly healthy.”  
  
The words lifted an invisible burden from Bruce’s chest. He sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Thank you, Leslie. I’m sorry for calling so late.”  
  
Leslie put her measuring tape and stethoscope in her bag. “No problem at all. Make sure you have him come to me when this is reversed so that we can make sure there are no side effects, alright?”  
  
“You think we’ll be able to reverse it?” The words were genuinely surprised.

Leslie smiled. “Knowing you, Bruce, you’ll figure it out quickly.” She stood up and gave her godson a half hug, said goodbye to Alfred, and cooed at Dick one last time before heading out the door.

Alfred shut the door. “I believe it is a good time for all of us to retire, Master Bruce.”  
  
Bruce nodded. “You’re right. Goodnight, Alfred."  
  
“Goodnight, Master.”

With that, Bruce took his young charge into his room and went to get some sleep that night.

* * *

The next few days were difficult for Bruce. Adjusting to a baby in the house was never easy for any parent, but between being a first-time father to a baby, Dick being so active, and himself having to make constant excuses for his absence at work, he was getting a crash course in what most parents had nine months to prepare for. Much of the time, he felt frazzled trying to field it all. Dick in himself was actually quite an easy baby, eating and sleeping well. It was only his constant need for activity that was difficult to manage. Bruce couldn’t take his eyes off of the child for a minute before he disappeared, crawling like a speed racer around rooms. It took less than an hour for him to learn that he couldn’t sit Dick down anywhere that wasn’t higher than he was and expect him to stay there. The playpen Alfred brought in the day after it happened was helpful for that.

Dick’s personality shone through almost immediately. He was almost always happy, always giggling, and curious as a cat. He was active, of course, but he also thoroughly enjoyed being held. However, if _Bruce_ was holding him and tried to pass him along to Alfred, it was quick to end in tears. Dick didn’t cry much. Needing feedings and changings were cause for tears, but the only other thing aside from that that made him cry was when Bruce tried to give him to anybody else. It was the separation anxiety Leslie had mentioned in full affect. In fact, if Bruce didn’t hold him, he wouldn’t go to sleep. Bruce suspected that Dick fearing abandonment had only been amplified in this fragile state. It made him reluctant to set the boy down at all.  
  
Despite all that, however, Dick was a cheerful, happy little ray of sunshine who brought more joy and life to the dark walls of the manor, and especially to his father. Alfred had never seen his charge smile so much at one time. It was a pleasing change that reminded him very much of how his previous master had been with his son. From the moment Bruce had held Dick in his small, infant form, he’d known he would do anything to protect him. What he could not have known was just how much he could grow to love that baby in a period of days. He was doing things he’d never done before just to make Dick smile. He made silly faces, tickled his son, pretended to fly him around the house, dressed him up in different outfits and took pictures (He’d never pictured himself as one of those stage dads but God only knew if he didn’t take pictures of this happy time, he would live to regret it.), and cherished every moment of his time with him in a way that he hadn’t ever thought to before.

Even with Dick’s constant demand for his attention, he still managed to get some things done in those first few days of adjustment. He’d called Lucius and told him the quarantine story, faking a sick voice, and Lucius had accepted it- though Bruce doubted he actually believed it. He’d done much of his work in his study with Dick settled in a playpen next to him, giggling as he played with stacking cups or blocks. He’d also made time to check in with the JLA. Well, it was just Clark, but it counted. He just couldn’t stand to be seen out of uniform. Since Clark sometimes came to photograph or do articles on him, he was the one he could tolerate the best seeing him in his civilian clothing. Clark had informed the rest of the league of the situation, and Barry, Diana, Ollie, and Dinah had all offered to babysit (alongside himself) if Bruce needed it. They were still working on figuring out the ray, but it was slow going. It seemed to have been a mixture of earth and alien technology, and they were all working to try and unlock it’s secrets.

It was a fairly peaceful time. If Bruce had not gone onto become The Batman, he imagined this being his daily life as a new father. But alas, all was not peaceful in Gotham, and he knew that. Different members of the JLA came to take his shifts, but he still had to watch what was happening on the news when Dick was asleep. He saw it all- Catwoman robbing a museum, Joker pulling a bank heist, Penguin breaking into a diamond vault, Clayface running amok. He wanted so badly to do something about it, but he knew he couldn’t. He made a promise to his son, and he didn’t dare break it. When the news broke of JLA members arriving on scene, he always felt some relief, but at the same time it drove him mad, sitting idly by and not doing anything about it. The caped crusader inside of him was having a fit over it, and he was suffering from a bit of an identity crisis. He was Bruce Wayne and he was The Batman, he was a civilian and a superhero, he was a father and a mentor. He simply could not get those two sides of him to blend into one and coexist as he wanted. One always had to fight for control now, when in the past it had never been an issue at all. Before, Batman had dominated his conscience while Bruce Wayne steadily played second fiddle. Now, Bruce was fighting for control against his justice-crazed counterpart in order to keep his son safe. It was an uncomfortable split, to say the least.

However, there were moments. Moments where all of himself was at peace, because he knew that his fight to protect the tiny baby in his arms was perhaps the greatest form of justice there was. It was one fought by every parent every day. In those moments, both Batman and Bruce Wayne found their peace. Now was such a time.  
  
It was eight o’clock in the evening, and he was holding Dick to get him to sleep. Dick often did not sleep unless he was sung to, and so he sang a song he’d sang a long time ago to a much older Dick when he’d been in the hospital as a boy in hopes of soothing his child.

“So many years spent lost and alone

I always thought I would be on my own 

Darkness filled all of my days

Painting my world in shades of gray

But that was the day, 

The day before you came

Suddenly who I am doesn’t matter anymore 

I’ll never be who I have been before again

With your warmth you’ve given the love so long denied me

Like the sun, you are the light that lives inside me

I will never be the same

As I was the day before you came

I never knew with my past

That happiness could come so fast

With every little thing you do

I fall a little more in love with you

And now I know 

I never want to go 

Back to the way it was the day before you came

I’ll be there when you need me

And help you be who you should be

It’s a promise that I’ll keep

There’s no more reasons to weep

I’m happy to know 

That I will never go

Back to the day before you came.”

Dick was soon asleep in his arms, and he held him just a bit longer both for his own satisfaction and to ease Dick into a deeper sleep. Then, he pressed a loving kiss to his son’s head before laying him in his crib to sleep for the night.

* * *

It was two days after that when he heard it. The tiny cough. It made him sit up in his bed. It was the middle of the night, but the small sound had jolted him awake like a gunshot. He was a light sleeper at the best of times, but it might have even been lighter now that there was a baby in his room. He tossed his covers off, and went over to Dick. Maybe he was a bit paranoid- okay, more than a bit- but he wanted to check anyways. He looked down at his child. Dick still seemed asleep, but still, the sound worried him. Despite that, he thought he might have been being a bit overprotective. He didn’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill. Reluctantly, he went back to bed.

When he woke up, he beelined over to Dick to check on him, and ice shot through his veins.   
  
“ALFRED!” Came the panicked tone.

The Englishman hadn’t heard his Master so panicked in… Well, in ever. For once abandoning his staunch and professional demeanor, he raced toward his Master’s room. Flinging open the door, he looked into the room to see his charge looking more frightened than he’d ever seen him.  
  
“Get Leslie on the phone and get her to meet us at the hospital by a private entrance. We have to go now.” He said.  
  
Alfred ran to the phone as Bruce scrambled to get dressed.

Then, they were out and in the limo. Bruce made sure to put the tinted windows up to make sure of their privacy. He sat down and looked at his son, whose skin was pale, his cheeks flushed, his cough hacking, and lips tinted a faint blue, breathing labored.

“Come on, Dickie. Breathe with Daddy. Daddy needs you. Haide, puiule. Respirați pentru mine.” The last words were in Romanian, Dick’s native tongue. He hoped that Dick would feel comforted by that. The most he could do right now was try and comfort him as best he could.

The limo whirled around the corner to the hospital, with Leslie at the door.

Bruce leapt from the car with a panther’s easy grace, and ran toward Leslie.  
  
“What are his symptoms?” She asked as they rushed inside.

“Shortness of breath, flushed cheeks, pale skin, cough, blue tint to his lips, temperature of 99.8 degrees as of half an hour ago.” He said, relaying them quick as he could.

“I’m going to put him on a CPAP machine to see if it helps with his breathing.” Leslie said.  
  
“Okay.” Bruce said, breathless.  
  
She wheeled in an incubator and hooked up a CPAP machine. Bruce laid him in the incubator and let Leslie put the mask over his son’s face. Dick began to cry, despite the coughing, and it ripped Bruce’s heart in two to hear it. Dick hardly ever cried. The mask made him look so terribly small. So helpless.

“Bruce?” Came the gentle voice.  
  
He turned, looked at Leslie. His eyes were as hollow as she’d ever seen them.  
  
“Let’s go sign some paperwork, okay?”  
  
“But it can’t-“  
  
“None of this will go on public record, I promise. But you’re his father. You have to sign paperwork at this point for treatment.” She soothed.

His eyes lingered on Dick. “Can we… Can we do it here?”

“Of course.” Leslie said softly. “I’ll go get the papers. Just sit down in that chair there.” She said.  
  
And so, Bruce sat.

A firm hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Alfred, staring down at him.  
  
“I don’t know how to do this, Alfred.” He said softly.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“I don’t know how to be… Helpless.”  
  
It was true. Bruce Wayne knew how to keep himself safe from the paparazzi and how to make the right decisions for his company. Batman knew every style of martial arts imaginable, and could hold his own in a fight. But neither of them could do anything to help this situation. All the money and crime fighting knowledge in the world could not help a sick baby get better.   
  
“Master.” Came the soft reply. “Parenting means being helpless. You cannot force a child into the correct decision, nor can you keep them safe from everything no matter how much you wish you could. Parenting means making the best decisions you can, and hope that they are the right ones. It is all you can do.”

Before he had time to reply, Leslie returned with the forms. “This one is consent to treat. The second one is acknowledgement of privacy laws, and the third is a release of the hospital from liability.” She said.

Bruce looked at her. “ _liability_?” It was dumbfounded.

“Releasing the hospital from responsibility if anything happens, _which it won’t_ considering I’ll be treating him.”  
  
Leslie gave him a pen, and it felt heavy in his hand. The real weight of a parent was held in his hand now. The decision that could save or cost Dick’s life was in his signature. He signed the papers, hand shaking. When he set it down, he felt like he was in the middle of an earthquake, the way he shook. Leslie gently pried the pen and clipboard from him.   
  
“I want to do some tests. A blood sample, urine test, spinal tap, and a mucus swab. Okay?” She said softly.

“Do whatever you have to, Leslie. Whatever it takes.” He said. “Just help him, please.” It was a soft plea.  
  
“I’m going to get everything for the tests, and then I’ll be back.” She promised, leaving Bruce, Alfred, and a squirming Dick in his incubator.

Alfred wanted to say something, anything to fix the situation, but he knew his words would do no good. His master was experiencing the kind of pain and helplessness he had once felt at being unable to comfort his charge after the murder of his parents. There were no words that could quell that fear.  
  
There were, however, actions one could take.  
  
Unbeknownst to his master, Alfred had contacted Masters Clark, Barry, Oliver, and Mistresses Diana and Dinah to come to the hospital. He was quite sure he might get thoroughly chastened for his actions, but he knew they needed to be done. His master did not have to do this alone, nor should he have to. Though nobody could offer words of comfort to him, they could surround him with their support, and that was as much as any of them could do.  
  
Clark, Diana, Barry, Ollie, and Dinah made their way into the sectioned of portion of the hospital, and saw Bruce sitting in the waiting room chair, Alfred by his side. Bruce looked… Stricken. It was the only way to describe it. His eyes were hollow, and didn’t seem to see what was in front of him, his skin held a ghastly pallor, and he looked to be trembling, almost vibrating the way Flash did when he wanted to get through solid matter.

All of them were disturbed by the sight. This was a sight they had never seen before. They had seen Bruce Wayne, millionaire playboy and father, and they’d seen Batman, fighter for justice and indomitable protector of Gotham city. But none of them had ever seen this. This was Bruce Wayne and Batman totally and utterly defeated. It was such a shocking and impossible thing that for a moment they all stood there, dumbfounded by it. It was almost like a physical blow, and Bruce’s obvious despair permeated the room so completely that they all felt their spirits drop a little. Barry was the quickest to recover, and gestured them all on.

They walked up to the millionaire, who seemed to be lost in his own mind. It was Clark who spoke.

“Bruce?”

Slowly, Bruce turned to them. There was a flickering of recognition in his eyes before the confusion flooded in.

“What are you all doing here?” It was clearly confused.

“Alfred called.” Said Barry, as Bruce turned to look into his smaragdine eyes that had none of their usual mirth. “We thought you could use some friends.”

Barry, Clark, and pretty much everyone present expected a fit, followed by a begrudging acceptance of their presence until they began procedures on Dick at which point they all assumed they would be kicked out only to come back afterward. That was the way Bruce operated. Few emotions besides anger and uneasy acceptance. When none of that happened, and they were just given a quiet “thanks” in return it was yet another bombshell. For a moment, they all had to process this before they realized how serious it must be in order for Bruce to not even fight about it. In fact, it looked as though the fight had been sucked right out of him.

Diana recovered first that time. “What happened?” Her voice was gentle and concerned. Had it been any other situation, he would have been infuriated with her for her concern and perceived pity. But considering the concern was for his son, he let it go.

“I woke up to check on him this morning and he was having trouble breathing. His lips were blue.” It was almost a whisper. “I had Alfred call Leslie and we came here. She’s going to run tests to find out what’s wrong, but she put him on a CPAP machine for now to help him breathe.”

“Bruce...”

“Don’t.” The reply was quick and sharp, like a jabbing of a stiletto heel, but it was not angry. It was the sound of a man weary of having carried a burden for too long. “Please. I can’t take that right now.” He said. He feared their obvious concern might very well snip the thread that held his composure.

Diana, to her credit, nodded and apologized.

“What tests are they going to do?”

“Blood, urine, and a spinal tap.”

“They’re doing a _spinal tap_ on a _baby_?” Ollie’s shocked voice cut in.

“They have to. Meningitis can contract in infants and can only be tested for by doing a lumbar puncture.” Explained Dinah.

A part of Ollie wondered why she knew that- but the greater part of him was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.

It was then that Leslie returned, with a cart full of equipment. She looked ready to tear them all a new one when Bruce intervened.

“It’s alright Leslie. They know. They’re... friends.” The last word tasted funny coming from his mouth.

Leslie bristled at having to work around so many people, but continued anyways. “Bruce, if you could hold him on his side for the lumbar puncture, it would be very helpful.” She said, getting herself ready.

Every instinct Bruce had told him that holding Dick down was going against nature, but his logic reminded him that the only way his son would get better would be by doing this. Even though he desperately didn’t want to do this, he knew there was no other option that would help his boy. He stood up, still shaky, and went over to his son.

Dick look thoroughly miserable. There was no other way to put it. He sobbed weakly underneath the daunting CPAP mask, and tried to wiggle around but couldn’t. Tears poured down his tiny cheeks. As soon as Bruce came into his sight, he let out a whimper, tiny hands reaching for him eagerly in a silent plea to be held. It damn near broke Bruce to know he couldn’t do that right now when all he wanted to do was snatch up his child and never let him out of his arms again.

“Hi Dickie.” He said softly, and stroked his head affectionately before he turned his son on his side for the lumbar puncture. He took a moment to steady himself, both physically and emotionally. He could do this.

“Talk to him.” Leslie said. “Talk to him or sing to him. It makes the process easier for him to know you’re there.”

He made sure his hands were steady before he nodded at her to begin, and began speaking to him.

The shriek that came out of Dick when the needle went in was practically inhuman. Bruce, in a moment of weakness, shut his eyes to not have to see Dick’s pained little face. He couldn’t look at his son in that moment, but somehow managed a calm tone as he spoke to him in a gentle voice.

“Tati e aici, puiule.Totul va fi în regulă.Tati te iubește și îi pare atât de rău că ai rănit, dar o să te simți mai bine în curând, îți promit.” He said.

Clark ran that through a translator in his head. _Daddy’s here, baby. Everything’s going to be okay. Daddy loves you, and he’s so sorry you’re hurting, but you’re going to feel better soon, I promise._ It would have been a sweet moment to observe Bruce being so affectionate were it not for Dick’s heart wrenching wails. Everyone seemed to flinch when they began because they were so distraught it almost physically hurt to hear them.

Mercifully, Leslie was quick and efficient at her task, and soon the needle was out. Bruce didn’t waste any time asking the question that he so desperately needed answered.

“Can I hold him now?” It was surprisingly- or perhaps unsurprisingly for a certain Butler- desperate. “He hates it when he’s not being held.”

“Of course. Just don’t take off the mask.” Leslie said gently.

Bruce didn’t need to be told twice as he swept his son into his arms and cradled him close, hushing him gently and bouncing him ever so slightly. Immediately he began talking to him and cooing at him, much to the surprise of the league members there. To hear Batman coo at anything was shocking, and yet... Something about it looked fitting. Like the baby belonged in his arms. With how quickly Dick responded to Bruce’s ministrations and calmed, the connection was undeniable.

Bruce was reluctant to set him down again for the urine and blood tests, but he knew it had to be done, even if he didn’t like it. He talked to Dick and crooned to him as his blood was drawn and a catheter was inserted into him for the urine sample. Then, once it was all done, he held Dick in his arms again and tried to get him to sleep. Though it was easier said than done, eventually he was sleeping in Bruce’s arms. Now all there was left to do was wait and find out what was wrong with him.

The league members present wanted to go over to Bruce. However, they all got the sense that going near him while he was holding his sick son would likely result in their murder, so they stayed back, supporting him from afar. All of their eyes were cast on the baby in his arms. It felt so wrong to see him so helpless and incapacitated. They looked on with worry at father and son.

It seemed like hours before Leslie returned, even though it wasn’t even an hour.

“Bruce?”

Bruce whipped his head around to where she stood so quickly that he thought he might get whiplash. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s pneumonia, Bruce.”

The signs and symptoms filtered through his mind, but his shock was what came out. “Pneumonia? How did he catch pneumonia? We haven’t taken him outside of the house until today.”

“That is where it gets interesting.” She said. “While the tests were running, I took a look at his medical records. Guess what he had at ten months old?”

It took a moment for what she was saying to click in his head. “So you’re saying he got this just because he was this particular age again?”

“That’s my theory. You and Alfred haven’t been around anybody who’s been sick lately, have you?”

Bruce shook his head. “No, we haven’t.”

“Then I think that’s your best bet.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“He’ll likely need to be here for a while for treatment, but most children do recover from pneumonia, and since he already did once I’d say that’s a good indicator of his chances. I think he’ll be just fine.”

The enormity of the weight the words took off of Bruce’s shoulders could not be understated. They all saw his shoulders slump in relief as tension they hadn’t realized he’d been carrying in his body left him. It took him a moment to recover from the onslaught of comfort before he spoke again.

“So what happens now?”

“We’ll give him some antibiotics intravenously and do some oxygen therapy to help with breathing. We’ll have to suction his nose and mouth fairly often to get rid of thick mucus.” She said. “And we’ll give him fluids in an IV to keep him hydrated. I take it he hasn’t been feeding well, has he?”  
  
Bruce had to make a concentrated effort to think about it. Last night seemed so far off now that it felt like a decade ago. “He ate most of his dinner but he only drank maybe half of his bottle. I thought maybe he was too tired since we had dinner a little later than usual. I didn’t think anything of it at the time…” He trailed off. There was a distinct tone of self-recrimination in the last sentence.

Leslie did what every league member there thought unthinkable and touched his shoulder, and to their shock she was not rebuffed. “Most kids get sick almost instantly, seems like. Don’t blame yourself for it. He might very well have done the same if he was too tired. You couldn’t have known it was coming or stopped it.” She said gently.

Bruce shook his head. “No… But it feels like I should have.”

“I know.” She said softly, and patted his shoulder. “I want to take him for a chest x-ray, see how his lungs are. Alright?”  
  
“Of course, of course.” He said, distractedly.

She held out her arms for the baby, not wanting to push him too far too soon. Clearly he was hesitant to stop holding the small boy. Bruce waited a moment, giving Dick and extra moment of cuddling, before he transferred his son to Leslie’s arms, to Dick’s immediate wailing. He reached for his father, and it took everything Bruce had in him to not take him back.

“Dada!” He could hear the cry through the mask. Hearing that, he couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him, before Alfred’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.   
  
“Don’t worry.” Leslie tried to soothe him. “I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.” She promised, before removing the CPAP mask and taking Dick for the X-ray.

It took a moment before Bruce spoke up again. “Me.” He said softly. “He needs me.”

* * *

Bruce, Alfred, Clark, Barry, Diana, Ollie, and Dinah sat cloistered in the small little makeshift waiting room. Bruce was obviously agitated, and brooding. He seemed to emanate dark clouds that seemed to block cheer from entering the space. His anxiety, fear, and paranoia were so tangible that all of the league members present were affected by it on some level or another. Barry couldn’t help vibrating a bit in place. Clark kept checking the doors for a threat. Diana fiddled with the hem of her top. Ollie and Dinah held hands, and couldn’t help squeezing each other’s rather tightly. Even Alfred couldn’t keep his eyes from looking at his master worriedly every few seconds.

When Dick was brought back, the tension in the air seemed to lessen greatly. Even better, the time under the CPAP mask had taken the blue tint from his lips. That small victory alone sent a flood of relief through Bruce that was so great he thought he might collapse were he not already seated. There was a small spike in anxiety for all of them when Leslie put in the IV lines into him- his shrieks of pain were heart-wrenching- but they quickly died down after Bruce held him and cuddled him. With the worst of it over, and small reassurances coming in that Dick really would get better, he found himself feeling stronger.

He turned to the friends who had come to support him in his and Dick’s greatest hour of need. Though he was not, by nature, an emotional man, he did not have words for the gratitude that he held for the fact that they cared this much about what happened to his son. Professionalism or otherwise, that meant something. There were so many things he wanted to say to them, but he couldn’t make all of them come out. So instead, he said what he could manage.

“Thank you all for coming. It’s… Nice to know that there are people out there who care so much about me and my son. I think we’ll be okay from here, though. If anything happens, I’ll let you know. Could you all keep working on reversing that ray while I’m here?”  
  
“We’re already on it.” Clark said, nodding. He set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder briefly in a gesture of solidarity, before all of them said their goodbyes and made their exits.   
  
That left Bruce and Alfred, who were more than certain that they’d spend the entirety of the next week in the stifling little room.

At least it was clean.

* * *

IV lines, CPAP masks, catheters, and crying seemed to make up the totality of Bruce’s life that week. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what life had been before this all happened. It was like a block in his memory. Who he was, what he did before, what he enjoyed- all of it seemed to float away like an untethered balloon. Life came down to a progression of tubes and wires and changes and feedings and calming his son down. Though he was never one to sleep much before all this, now, sleep came even less. He was thankful that he had perfected the art of micronapping, otherwise he would have been more exhausted and out of his mind than he already was. Those hour bursts of sleep were perhaps all that he could allow himself without something needing to be done. The only part of his past life that seemed to bleed into this new one was work. When Dick was asleep or being tended to by Leslie, he did paperwork from the laptop he asked Alfred to bring. A call to Lucius with a “rough” voice guaranteed him all the time he needed. A lie that he was in quarantine in the hospital wasn’t a stretch after already telling Lucius he’d been quarantined at home. It gave him the time and the privacy to make Dick his first priority, and he needed that more than anything.

The baby still managed to scare his father a few times during the week. Seemingly holding his breath for a time, pulling out his IV lines, and having a few instances where the CPAP was needed again to remove the blue tint from his lips. Every time, Bruce and Leslie handled it, and every time, Dick was perfectly fine. He was the definition of a resilient boy in more ways than one, and this was one of the finer instances of it.

After a week, Dick really was looking better. His skin didn’t have an eerie pallor to it, and his cheeks were less flushed. His lips no longer turned blue, and his nose wasn’t running as much. His fever had gone down as well. Though his fever was still present, it wasn’t nearly where it was before, and he was thankful for that.

Dick was eating and sleeping better, too. He could sleep for four hours at a time now without fussing, and he seemed hungry enough that Leslie allowed him to try and feed him a bottle. To both of their surprise and delight, he drank the whole thing. Bruce felt encouraged by this. It really gave him a sense that things were going to be okay.

Bruce was exhausted, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower, but he couldn’t have cared less about his own state. Dick was getting better, and that was all that mattered. On their seventh day in the hospital, Alfred had insisted upon him showering and brought him a fresh change of clothes. Bruce had been reluctant, not having Left Dick’s side apart from when he had to get a chest x-ray done, but with Alfred’s assurances that he would watch the lad and that Dick really was turning a corner and he should allow himself to take a break, Bruce complied. He even took a slightly longer shower than usual because it was enjoyable. When he stepped out, in clean clothes and freshly shaven, he felt like a new man. Dick, as promised, was fine.

When he wasn’t tending to Dick, working, or attempting to care for himself, Bruce checked in with the progress the JLA had been making with the ray he’d found that fateful night that had caused all of this. He was happy and relieved to know that they were making good headway and should have it finished by the following week. Hopefully it would be enough time for Dick’s pneumonia to clear completely so that he could finally have some time to enjoy himself again.

By the following Thursday, Dick was released from the hospital. Bruce thanked Leslie profusely, paid her four times her normal rate, and invited her over for dinner the next week, which she gladly accepted. Triumphantly, he was able to bring his son back home, and cradle him close.

Life resumed the new normal it had before, as much as it could. Bruce fed, changed, and cuddled Dick as much as he could. He had almost developed a superstition about setting Dick down, as though if he did harm would befall the baby. Even when he bathed Dick, he hardly set him down. A hand was always holding the child, keeping him safe. His paranoia had developed to the point where he now had Dick sleep in his bed with him. Co-Sleeping, the books called it. It was said to strengthen the parent-child bond- as though they needed it. No bond was stronger than the one they shared. Bruce liked to think that them sharing a bed was a sort of shared comfort for them both. He thought Dick was as soothed by his presence as he was by Dick’s. Anytime the baby woke in the night, he was right there to soothe him.

It had been four days after Dick’s release from the hospital. Bruce had finished feeding Dick his breakfast and changing him, and had now been playing with him nearby. He’d been in the middle of tickling Dick and hearing him squeal when Alfred came in.

“Sir.”  
  
Bruce turned to Alfred, Sitting up. “What is it, Alfred?”  
  
“Master Clark has contacted me. The ray’s effects have been reversed.” He said.

Bruce was still on the floor, and looked at Dick, who looked perfectly happy, playing with a wooden block.

This should have been simple, and he knew it. He should have taken Dick to the watchtower and turned him back. Simple. Easy. But, of course, he and Alfred were the only ones who knew about Dick’s headspace. If Dick remembered this afterward, and he very well might have considering they had no idea about the after effects, he wondered If Dick would have wished for a little more time like this. Or maybe it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was that he wanted to hold onto Dick like this a little while longer.

He’d never gotten to spend time with his son as an infant. He’d never gotten to hold him after his birth or help get him to sleep after a long night. He’d missed his first words, first steps, first smile. He didn’t get those late nights of staying up with his son when he was teething or cuddling him to make a bump on the head better. Until he’d taken Dick under his roof, he’d never even thought about what it would be like to have a child, but once Dick came, he’d found himself missing those small little things.

Then, as if the universe had felt that universal ache about those missing years, he’d been given this gift. A little more time. A chance to feel some of the things that every parent was supposed to feel with their child. He felt them, felt them all so strongly that it seemed nigh impossible to let things go back to the way they were before. He hadn’t gotten those firsts, and he wanted to see them, so badly. He wanted to be there for those first steps, hell, he got to see the first words, but he was greedy. He wanted more. He wanted to be there for it all. Every first, every moment he never got, every time Dick needed him.   
  
It wasn’t fair to Dick, and he knew that, but at the same time, he knew Dick loved him as a real father and knew, logically, that it wasn’t fair that they hadn’t gotten to share those firsts either. Would it really be so bad to get that time in? Time was fleeting, and God only knew that as heroes time was a hot commodity that none of them usually had enough of. These past two weeks had been a rarity because for once he got to stop time, and to see what life might have been had fate chosen to write a different story for him. It was a world without Batman, but with his son, and he wasn’t ashamed to say it was a beautiful way to live. If the pressure of keeping Gotham safe hadn’t rested on his shoulders, he knew he could have stayed this way forever. Frozen these moments and just stayed in them as they were.

But the cape and cowl were a part of him, as much as his own name. He could not simply walk away from them so easily. It wasn’t just Gotham’s safety he was fighting for, it was his son’s right to a peaceful world, and he could never abandon that dream. There were tens of thousands of people who had been victims of crimes. Batman fought for them just as much as he did for himself. He could never abandon those people who needed him so much.

Still, he could not leave his son either. He found himself wishing for just a little more time with him like this. He wished he could relive this day, replay it over and over again to make it last forever. Maybe that was why the brain let humans have memories. It was as close to freezing time or reliving a day as they could all get. He could not abandon his city, but he could not abandon his family either, and that was what made the decision so difficult.

He looked at Dick, who was now chewing on the block he’d been playing with before. He looked happy and content. With everything Dick had bore witness to, with all the death, destruction, and darkness he’d faced in his life, to see something so simple make his son so happy was a joy. It was these moments that often gave him a pang of guilt. Dick should have never been fed to the world the way he was. It was stupid and mindless and heedless of the lives and souls it crushed in it’s never-ending quest for consumption. Dick didn’t deserve that. He knew that he had given Dick some semblance of an olive branch with the world when he’d allowed him to become Robin. He’d made a sort of uneasy peace with it, making sure that nobody suffered the same fate as his parents had. Bruce knew that. But did that really make up for all that he’d lost? The innocence he’d never have again, the moments with his parents stolen away, the knowledge that the world was not a safe place at the tender age of nine?   
  
The time they’d had since this had happened… It was a gift. Dick got to have the shredded canopy of his own innocence replaced as though the rips and tears in it had never occurred. In this simple time, he’d had his trust in the world restored. He knew that Bruce would be there to take care of him, to make things better. He’d gotten a family again to watch out for him. No longer did men with guns or clown costumes haunt his dreams. He, for once, was completely cloaked behind the canopy again. Bruce, perhaps out of guilt or even a little bit of jealousy, did not want to be the one to take that away from Dick as it had been taken away from him.

Alfred, whom Bruce had forgotten was there in his musings, spoke up.  
  
“Perhaps we should wait until the young master has had his nap? I don’t think the league would appreciate an upset child in their quarters. Wouldn’t you agree, Master Bruce?”  
  
Bruce couldn’t help giving Alfred a grateful little smile. The Englishman always knew what he was thinking. It was just a little more time, the little bit of time he so desperately needed. “I think that’s a great idea, Alfred.”  
  
“Quite so.” The butler nodded.

It was as close to a happy medium as he might ever get. Just a little more time with Dick, while still being true to the cape and cowl he wore.

Dick’s nap began a little over an hour later, after a change and a feeding. Bruce laid down on his bed, shirt removed so Dick could get the skin-to-skin contact he loved so much, and laid his son on his chest to sleep. He took that time to marvel at Dick’s every feature. The shock of ebony hair on his head that seemed so delicate. The velvety soft skin that he wanted to nuzzle forever. The tiny hands that seemed so small in his own and made him feel like a giant. The tiny lips that were nearly always tipped up into a smile. The eyelids that covered the expressive baby blue eyes that he loved so dearly. The little legs that were always moving. The tiny feet that were fun to tickle to get a giggle out of his son.   
  
He’d never learned to love someone so much and so deeply as he did Dick. It was truly astounding how much one person could change him. Dick had come into his life at the age of nine, and he’d found that he was capable of letting somebody behind the walls he put around himself, and loving someone other than himself and Alfred. He’d learned the fundamentals of fatherhood, and was a teacher, mentor, and friend to Dick. This experience, however, changed him even more than that one. It deepened what was already there. He found his love could be deeper than before, his protective instincts sharper, and his knowledge of what fatherhood was thrown out the window and rebuilt from scratch. He’d learned more about what he was capable of in the past two weeks than in the past sixteen years, and he’d loved every second of it. Even when Dick was in the hospital, even when he was feeling more hopeless than he ever had, he hadn’t taken one second of this time for granted. He’d known it was a privilege and a gift to have this time, and that he would never get it back. He’d learned more about carpe diem in the past two weeks than he had in his entire life. He would seize the day as much as he could.

He knew how much he would miss this feeling. Dick fitting in his arms as though they were shaped to hold him, leaning against his chest- so small and fragile and yet somehow so strong. He would miss cuddling the baby before a nap or holding him during a feeding or watching him play nearby. He would miss the sense of completeness that filled him when his son reached to be picked up, or that feeling of accomplishment when he got Dick to smile after he’d been crying. Most of all, he’d miss being able to be so openly affectionate toward his son without fearing the possible repercussions.

When the nap was over, he’d take Dick to the JLA and get him changed back. Dick would probably ask him some questions, maybe share details of what had happened before if he remembered, and then they would part ways for perhaps quite a while. It had been so nice to have Dick with him at the manor this week. Most days the manor seemed cold and desolate, but with Dick in it again… It had finally started feeling like home again. He wasn’t ready for things to go back to the way they were, and yet he knew that was what he had to do. He would do it, but he wouldn’t like it.

His hand rested atop Dick’s back, completely still, as he held the infant in place. His arm was below Dick, not touching him, but there to catch him if he needed it. His eyes never left the baby the entire time. At that point, he was just trying to soak in every last bit of this that he could before it would end. He didn’t want to say goodbye to a journey that had just seemed to start, but he knew it was not within the natural order of things. He didn’t want it to be over so quickly, but he knew they both had responsibilities to attend to that couldn’t be left alone for too long. This little mini-vacation from reality had been as wonderful as he could have imagined, but now it was time to move forward and make time start up again from where it had paused.

Dick awoke an hour later, much to Bruce’s dismay. He’d wished that nap would have lasted far longer. Still, a promise was a promise, and he would make good on it. He got himself dressed in his Batman uniform, grabbed Nightwing’s uniform, belt, and mask, and headed to the watchtower.

He stuck to the shadows, not wanting to be bothered. His presence would have been announced over the intercom anyways. They would know he was here, but they would also know him enough to know not to bother him. He found the ray in his private room, likely put there by Clark so he could change Dick back with some privacy. His door slid shut, the swishing sound of the door against the metal frame giving a sense of finality to the action he was about to take. He sighed, thinking it best to just get it done. He stripped Dick of his clothing except the diaper, and set him in the middle of the bed, before he went behind the ray. It didn’t seem too complicated to work, and he figured it out rather quickly. Then, as it powered up, he took one last Look at Dick like this. He knew he’d cherish that moment forever. Before the light became too bright for him to see, the last thing he caught sight of was Dick’s happy smile.

He used his cape to Block the light. When it faded, he spoke, cape still up. “Dick?”  
  
A moment of silence, then two, before: “Dad?”  
  
“Your costume is on the bed. Get dressed and we’ll talk.” He said.

“Okay.”  
  
Maybe a minute passed, maybe more, before Dick spoke again. “You can turn around now, Dad.”  
  
Batman turned around, and there was Nightwing in all of his twenty-five year old glory. Bruce felt a clinching in his chest at the sight. Already he ached for what had been only five minutes ago, and yet there was still relief that came with the sight of him back to normal.

Bruce sat on the bed, Dick beside him. “Do you know what happened?” He asked.  
  
Dick nodded. “Yeah. I remember everything.”  
  
“Everything?” Bruce’s voice did not betray his surprise.

Dick nodded. “You, Leslie, The hospital, going home… Everything.”

“Alright…” Silence prevailed over them a moment. “And you’re… Okay?”

“I’m…” He paused a moment. “I’m conflicted, I guess?” He hadn’t meant the words to come out as a question, but they had.  
  
“About?”

“It was weird. That’s a given, I guess. You’re stuck in this small little body not able to do all the things you used to do and you kind of have to learn a new normal. But it wasn’t bad at all. It felt… Light. I didn’t have to worry about anything because I knew you’d take care of it. It was… a really nice change. And I felt safe with you. Sometimes when you held me I could close my eyes and think that it was them there. It was like… Like a rewrite of everything that had happened, but it wasn’t bad at all. It was… It was what I thought it would be like if I was biologically yours.”  
  
Silence stretched over them. It was a comfortable one. It took a minute before Bruce spoke.  
  
“I had the same thought.” He said. “It was what my life would have been like if I hadn’t become Batman. I actually enjoyed it very much. So much that…” He paused.  
  
“That…?”

“That I wondered whether I was being selfish when I wanted to spend a few more days with you that way.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
Bruce nodded. “I knew you had responsibilities, though. I didn’t want to take you away from your job and your city because of my wants. But I want you to know…”  
  
“Yeah, Dad?”  
  
Bruce looked him dead in the eye. “This was one of the best experiences I have ever had.”  
  
Dick smiled. “Same here.”  
  
Bruce then Launched into a preset flurry of questions of who the hell had done that to Dick, which Dick answered as best he could. Mad scientist, great with ray guns, wanted to be able to rob people blind, came up with the idea for the ray. Bruce made a mental note to ask Clark if they’d got him. Then, running out of things to say, Dick spoke up.  
  
“I’d better get to my apartment and start paying bills if I want to shower again.”  
  
“You don’t have to worry about that. I paid everything for this month for you and I called in at your job that you were in quarantine in the hospital. They said to come in when you’re clear with a doctor’s note, and I had Leslie write one up for you.” He said.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” He smiled.  
  
Bruce gave a soft smile. “I believe in being prepared.”  
  
“I’ve noticed.” Dick smiled right back. “I’m going to head back though. I definitely need a shower.” He said, beginning to cross the room.  
  
“Dick, wait.” Bruce called out.  
  
Dick turned back, curious.  
  
“I don’t forget a day of you, you know. I’ll always remember, and be happy that we had time we didn’t get before.” His voice was low.

Dick was momentarily surprised by the display of emotion in costume. Bruce could get emotional. Batman did not. But it appeared, for a moment, that the line between the two had blurred, and all that remained was paternal instinct. Dick crossed the room to his father, and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I don’t forget a day of you either.” He said softly.

They were frozen in time for an instant. Nothing could touch them. In that moment, it felt as though all those happy moments they’d shared were falling around them like confetti. They wouldn’t have had it any other way. It was perfect.


End file.
